


the jury's out (and my choice is you)

by grapefruity



Series: peraltiago, tumblr style [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapefruity/pseuds/grapefruity
Summary: 'cause I love the gap between your teethand I love the riddles that you speak[ a series of one-shots pulled off my tumblr per request ]





	1. citrus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> jake/amy pillowtalk? :)

“Jake–”

“Hang on let me just-”

“ _Jake_!”

He squirms, before he settles down, his long limbs wound through hers and his nose pressed into her hair. It’s not exactly customary since usually, he’s the one rolling over while her tinier body huddles up into his spine, but she got some new shampoo and he’s been meaning to see what it smells like in real human hair before he snags it for himself.

“There,” He mumbles thickly, dragging his thumb down each notch in her spine, awash with about a dozen different emotions on the positive scale that he didn’t even know he could feel before Amy. Sure, maybe he might’ve accidentally twisted her arm in a weird way or kneed her in the hip before getting into this position, but now that they’re here, it’s pretty cozy if he says so himself.

“Your hair smells really good,” He adds, taking another whiff. She sighs, but he knows that she’s holding back a smile. Mostly because he can feel it grow against the skin of his collarbone, but he’s pinning it down to his ace detecting skills.

“It shouldn’t, seeing how it’s all sweaty now- thanks for that by the way, I’d _just_ showered,” Despite her tone, she leans back enough to get a good look of him and catch the dopey, soft look he reserves for moments like these. With the way his eyes bore into her own, she can forgive him for getting her right after a good wash.

“Are you implying that I tired you out so much that you’re now actually gleaming with bodily fluids?” He grins, before they both simultaneously cringe, Jake adding a quick ‘Ew, not as accomplishing as it sounded in my head,’ before shaking it off and reaching a hand up for a high five. “Despite that disgusting imagery and the fact that your granny sheets are now stained with sin-” She smacks him.

“-I think that deserves a high five,” He bats her hand away and nudges it up until she’s rolling her eyes and smacks their palms together, Jake giving an enthused whoop before his palm falls back against her waist.

“It’s citrus,” She says after a couple seconds to let her eyes flutter shut and nuzzle into his neck, enjoying the small vibration his throat makes from the contented hum he supplies.

“What?” It’s small wonder that he’s actually falling asleep already (she _does_ have the more comfortable bedding between the both of them) but manages to keep himself awake for these moments of small talk.

“The shampoo,” She says, tracing patterns into his skin that range between stars to hearts. “It’s citrus. Orange, specifically,”

He ponders that thought a while before he tugs her against him a little tighter, taking a long, deep sniff. “Amy Santiago,” He says, somewhat awestruck. “How is it possible that you’re _actually_ orangina?”

She shrugs, grinning against him. “I guess I’m just that amazing,”

“That you are,” He agrees, letting himself relax against her. “That you most definitely are,”


	2. two hundred and counting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> For the prompt thing: How about what happens when Jake finally comes home?

He’s a mess – broken ribs, a fractured arm and a sprained ankle. His jaw’s a little bruised and his frosted hair is messed up and he’s a total mess but he’s _alive_.

“Hey Santiago,” He breathes sleepily, a dopey smile crossing his features that actually looks like it was painful to form. Her breath catches in her throat and she can’t help but stay frozen in her spot, hands caught in midair like she doesn’t know where to put them. “So am I gonna get a kiss for these boo boos?”

His voice is thick with the drugs he’s on, and his eyes are half lidded at best. His skin is more tanned than she remembered it being, sun freckles just along the ridge of his cheekbone, and his hair looks totally ridiculous but he’s here. He’s real. This isn’t another dream she’ll wake up to in cold sweat, phantom limbs around her middle.

“You look like a hot mess Peralta,” She says when she finally regains control of her lungs, before she breaks out into a peal of laughter, inflected with broken hiccups and snotty noises of the tears welling under her eyes. His arms stretch pathetically out and she only just notices how glassy his own gaze seems; It takes her two strides across the room until she’s delicately letting him cradle her into an embrace, curling into him as gently as she can until her whole weight is supported by the mattress.

“Ha, you think I’m hot,” He sniffs, shakily breathing underneath her and she breaks out into a complete sob. She’s waited close to two hundred days for this and for once she doesn’t care that her mascara is streaking down her lightly powdered cheeks, and she doesn’t care that there’s just a bit of snot running down her face when she finally kisses him and it’s hungry, and sloppy, and the best part is: it’s _real_.

“I missed you so much,” She exhales, touching his cheeks, and then his neck, and then the sides of his arms while he does a similarly thorough examination of her back. “And I can’t believe you- you- what happened to you?”

“Oh this?” He murmurs weakly, cocking his head down to his mangled frame. “Just, y’know, took out a whole lotta bad guys, practiced some sweet moves, trumped evil with justice,” He cracks a grin which splits into a grimace and she immediately is overwhelmed with emotion.

“Life is not a _Die Hard_ movie you idiot!” She hisses, pained in it’s delivery but hardly with enough force behind it, given the way they’re still clinging to one another for dear life. “You could’ve– oh my God you- you-”

“Got out alive and got the girl in the end, so it was all worth it,” He presses a kiss to her forehead and when he turns enough to capture her lips between his, salty, damp and warm, she can’t help but think, _yes, it really was_.


	3. and honey you taste so sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> jake and amy + lazy sunday mornings (i Love ur established jake and amy writing!!!)

On Sundays, Jake makes pancakes. Sometimes it’s waffles, and sometimes it’s a combination of the both, but his presence in the kitchen (albeit, around twelve in the afternoon) is a constant. Amy spends the time in bed watching him pad around her small kitchen, watching this big man amidst her floral wallpaper and her numerous doilies throw on her spotless floral print apron and sing obnoxiously loud as he pours batter into the pan.

Sometimes, she even manages to get herself out, and she’ll sneak up behind him with her arms tucked around his waist until he shoos her away, saying something like “Hey, a magician never reveals his tricks Ames,” before turning around to heft her atop the counter with a fair bit of struggle. She gives him an A for effort anyway.

(Literally – the sticker is pressed between his shoulder blades and he makes a show of trying to flap it off his back, like that’ll actually help)

“It’s just batter Jake, it’s not rocket science,” She snorts, legs crossed and hands outstretched for the warm cup of coffee he passes her, and instantly an affectionate pang courses through her; Normally, this is the part where most people should get cold feet over how domestic the whole thing is. For Amy, Jake’s been making her food since before they got their act together and fell in love properly.

“To you it might as well be,” He huffs back, showily flipping a pancake with just the skillet, and alright fine, maybe she’s a little jealous and a little impressed. He looks back with a grin as if he knows what she’s feeling, before nearly dribbling batter on his foot.

When he’s done she washes up because, apparently she does a better job of it than Jake does and it’s a fair trade, and then they make bets over who can eat the most pancakes in ten minutes until they both feel a little sick. His lips are always coated in maple syrup and frosting sugar, and Amy takes a measured effort to lick it off (”You know, saliva isn’t the most effective cleaning agent,” “Well, I can just you know stop–” “Nope! No not what I meant, being gross is second nature to me, please continue,”) until Jake has her cradled in his lap and they’re both hiccuping in laughter over how dumb that was.

Dumb enough to repeat it the next weekend, but neither of them are complaining about this addition to the routine.


	4. wound me round

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phil-the-stone asked:  
> Can I send u a prompt? Jake and Amy, Jake braiding Amy's hair (either pre or post dating, u decide!! <3)

It’s one in the morning when she brings it up; 

“I never learnt how to braid my hair,” She shrugs, munching leisurely on the corner of her wrap. In favor of electing to ignore that it’s _green_ and looks like a strip of grass rolled over more vegetables, he turns his focus to her hair – Amy’s precise with everything she does. Her hair carries the natural shine that ad’s talk about, and he’s never seen it knotted when she can help it. She’s always got some, neat, pulled back hairdo that makes him wonder how she doesn’t have a receding hairline, and he can’t help but compare the silkiness of it to that of a mermaid.

“Wow,” He says, genuinely a little shocked as he looks away from his binoculars - not that there was anything for him to binocule anyway (that’s a word, right?) - and scrutinizes her hair as if somehow, it’s going to wind itself into a braid and he can call her bluff. “Really? You can make your hair disappear into your scalp _neatly_ but you can’t _braid your hair_?”

She wriggles her nose a little, the way she does when he’s bested her at something and pulls her arms closer together, munching a little more fiercely on her food. She looks like a rabbit, he notices, and doesn’t spend too long on that thought because, it’s incredibly adorable and the last thing he needs is to think of Uptight Amy as even cute.

“Look I grew up in a house full of boys, braiding my hair was never a priority - and it still isn’t a priority, it’s not like it makes me any less valued as a woman just because I can’t, put my hair in a braid,” She’s shrugging her shoulders too much and trying too hard to look ‘cool’ about it that he knows it’s bothering her more than she’s letting on.

Also, he really wants an excuse to touch her hair.

“Here why don’t I,” He shuffles around in his seat, the binoculars moving to sit on the dashboard until he can unbuckle and turn towards her, motioning at her hair. “Like– you know, show you,”

His hand brushes against the back of her neck and she feels goosebumps rise along her forearms, until she realizes he’s reaching for the rest of her hair to pull it over to the shoulder favoring his side. 

“I can’t believe I’m better than you at tying hair, can we get this on camera? I wanna be able to screen this at the precinct in demonstration of Ways _Jake Peralta Is Super More Awesome Than Amy Santiago,”_ He declares gleefully, tilting her head so he can work a braid down the back of her scalp until he reaches the junction just below her ear.

She elbows him in his side and he howls in her ear and they both start laughing despite themselves until he captures her attention by turning her chin towards him - well, towards the partitioned hair, she realizes after staring at him with a startled expression until he flickers his gaze between her hair and her eyes.

“Okay, now that we’ve established that, it’s simple just- watch,” He folds the hair delicately together, bringing left over middle over right over middle until he reaches the bottom, and then wordlessly pulls her elastic off her wrist, securing it in place. It’s the goofy, warm smile he gives her like he just showed his mum the A* on his report card that makes her come to him a week later.

“Hey Jake?” She says, wheeling over to him. “Can you help me braid my hair?”

She ignores Gina’s wordless eyebrow raise and focuses on the way he quietly scoots closer to neatly part her hair for her.

(Three years later when she comes out of the shower after a long day at work and nestles her head against his lap, he quietly repeats the motion, drawing it out as much as he can until she falls asleep then and there.)


	5. double-tuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> jake sees amy doing the double tuck for him / jake mentions the double tuck to amy and she freaks out a bit ! <3

He catches her in action when he turns back to sneak a glance at her after he strolls out of the break room, so faint with happiness he could actually pass out and witnesses her head bow down while her fingers tuck her hair behind ears and Jake actually feels his heart stop for a second there. Rosa’s giggling, somewhat scarring but definitely amusing impersonation hardly lives up to the endearment that Amy brings to the table.

The double-tuck was incited as follows:

At roughly 9.16 A.M one Jake Peralta, the greatest, coolest detective dude boyfriend alive strode into the precinct with a cup of steaming hot peppermint coffee in one hand and a somewhat messily knit shimmery, blue and green scarf thrown over the other.  
  
“I come bearing gifts, m’lady,” He announces, swinging into the break room and reveling at the way she gives him one of her wide-eyed looks of brief shock as the cup goes into her hand. The scarf, drapes itself across her neck and she looks between that and him before her expression settles into an unspoken question, prompting his explanation;  
  
“Your heater broke. Figured you’d, need to keep warm in some way and also I might have totally ruined that scarf you had hanging up,” He laughs because, in his experience, laughter is always a _great_ tension diffuser. “Might have broken your heater too. Point is, I made it up to you by staying up until three in the morning to knit you this,”

His fingers tug at the fluffy material that extends to her knees and his hands are braced on his hips in anticipation. Amy for the most part has skimmed over the fact that he broke her heater and ruined her scarf, mostly judging from the way she traces a finger along the hemming of the fabric and gives him the same grin-turned-smile she made when he whipped out the cruise planner. 

God, he loves her.

“You know, I’m still going to hold you accountable for the heater, but this is really–” Before she has the chance to finish he reaches out and pulls her to him so he can lean forward, press his lips to hers and he’s aware that they’re breaking workplace protocol but she tastes like watermelon chapstick and _God he loves her._

“Great, I know,” He says in a rush, biting his lower lip to keep him from looking too goofy before he lets her go, clears his throat and turns away. “I’ll fix the heater! Eventually!” He adds before he strides out of there, sparing one last look over his shoulder.

Amy’s too busy suppressing her own giddy smile, and pushing her hair behind both her ears to notice. 


	6. like, a jewish clark kent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> For a prompt: Jake wears glasses to work & Amy responds.

It’s not new that Jake comes late to the precinct. But it’s new that he spends most of the morning avoiding her, and well anyone else for that matter. Jake takes to attention like a fly to light, so it’s weird when no one has seen him for four hours straight, until Gina emerges from the evidence lock up, smirking like someone just told her Beyonce hired her as a backup dancer. 

“Good news everyone,” She declares, waving one arm around to get the precinct’s attention. “Jake’s not dead, he just had to embrace the hipster under that three layer package of shame and plaid,”

And then she turns back where she came, and there’s a very distinct struggle being put up by one Jake Peralta in the form of boxes being knocked over and a whiny, “Gina no! Don’t you- ack no don’t please- _Gina_!” before she’s pulling him out by a pair of _handcuffs_  and he’s standing there, except: he’s wearing glasses.

Amy’s jaw actually slackens. Rosa makes no comment, and Boyle just makes a passing comment along the lines of “Boy, I knew you could rock any look Jake! This means you can see your reflection twice as well now, lucky you,”

Jake, on the other hand looks petulantly sulky, while Gina hauls him over to his desk and pushes him into his seat. “You’re welcome Santiago for returning your boyfriend, and you’re welcome precinct for returning your self proclaimed best detective, or whatever,” She says before sashaying back to her seat where the theme music of Kwazy Cupcakes bubbles up.

Amy’s a little too speechless to form words, because her brain keeps saying ‘He looks like a Jewish Clark Kent’ and teenage Amy had such a huge crush on Superman and her brain has officially left the building. “Look my contacts dried out and I don’t have anymore,” He huffs, shrinking into his seat, and then she realizes he’s _embarrassed_.

He jangles his still cuffed hands and then adds. “Uh, and maybe could I get a little help?” She falters, waits a second to long before she coughs out a “Yeah- sure of- yep!” Before moving over to him to nervously fiddle with his cuffs, teething at her lower lip and pointedly avoid his gaze.

“Wait,” He mumbles, frowning at her before he cracks into a grin that she can notice from her peripheral. “You’re… _turned on_ , oh my God of course you would be, the lamer I look, the more attracted to me you are!” He concludes, practically bouncing in his seat. Amy’s neck burns, and she doesn’t say anything until his hands are uncuffed and she can go back to her desk.

She doesn’t say anything when he gives her a ridiculous brow waggle, and indulges the way he starts reading the periodic table to her every time they stop at a traffic light before asking, “Is this doing wonders for you, eh, eh?” With a faux husky voice. 

But, when they get to her apartment, she makes sure to give him a reason to wear his glasses to work for weeks more. 


	7. what's plan B?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> peraltiago prompt: meeting amy's parents

There’s a button missing on his shirt, he discovers, as he drags his hand down the middle of his shirt for the third time. “There’s a button missing,” He vocalizes, out loud, completely panicked as his free hand grips the steering wheel a little tighter. 

“What?” 

“On my shirt. There’s a button, and it’s just _gone_. Do you think they’ll notice? I mean I didn’t even notice until now and I’m a detective. Oh no what if they think that makes me a _bad_ detective, Amy wh–”

“Jake,” She cuts through the ramble, her voice clean and crisp while his sounds like he just consumed three bags of sour candies in one sitting (which he came close to, with an impressive one and a half until Amy confiscated them from him) and honestly, he’s amazed that he’s still driving in a straight line. “You’ll be fine, button or not,”

He tries to repeat those words in her voice to himself, but it doesn’t work, not until she reaches over and her hands fiddle with his chest, and then she says “You just buttoned your shirt wrong, anyway,”

Yeah, that makes more sense. “Oh,”

* * *

 

\- - -

The Santiago clan, as he has taken to calling it, given it’s scale, is nothing but warm, friendly, and massive. There are four kids playing on the lawn when he pulls up, and two of Amy’s brothers are talking near the swingset with a couple of beers. The lights are on and there isn’t a second that passes without a shadow of movement from inside the house, and all Jake can think of is the fact that this is what a real family looks like.

He’s also still strapped into the driver’s seat, and doesn’t realize he’s staring until Amy squeezes his hand. “You worked with the mafia for half a year,” She says, unbuckling the safety strap for him. “You can handle my family,”

“I can barely keep up with one Santiago,” He points out, though, he does move to get out, opening the passenger door for her. “Ten might as well give me a heart attack right now. What a great way to go off, death by Santiago,”

\- - -

The food smells well, edible. Amazing. Homely. And if Jake were anyone else, maybe he’d be bitter because as a child, the one cooking the meals was always him and sometimes Gina, and the palate ranged from Kraft Mac n Cheese, to scrambled eggs with too much ketchup. But what he feels is included - not like he didn’t feel that with his mum, or his nan, or Gina, but here it feels like Amy’s family leaves a space at the table wide enough for him, in more ways than one.

When he voluntarily helps to wash up and watches Amy try and hide the smile she reserves for when he’s done something super considerate - re: Cruise Ship Planning - he finds his forearms sud deep next to a small, older Cuban woman who’s helping to rinse off the plates he passes.

“You’re a good man Jacob,” She says quietly, almost like she’s saying it to herself, methodically rinsing the soap off before the delicate China plate, all floral and pretty and Amy, and Jake feels a blossom of warmth start up in his chest. “I was worried, when Amalia had said her boyfriend was a cop, because I know that most men on the force have something of an ego problem,” 

It’s not untrue, but he slows on the soaping because he can practically hear the brow raise in her tone.

“Take Emanuel for example, my second oldest, almost more competitive than Amy, but I raised him right, you know, to be respectful,” He knows the one she’s talking about. Tall, pretty ripped, definitely intimidating, has the same crinkle in his eyes when he smiles that Amy has.

“It looks like your mother raised you the same way,” His throat goes dry and his head says, _She did, she really really did_. “And I couldn’t think of Amy with a better partner,”

“Well,” He says, finally, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “I’m still working on being better, because as everyone knows, Amy doesn’t settle for anything less than the best,”

\- - -

Her dad finds him just before they leave, when Amy’s already in the car and packing in the miscellaneous number of care packages and assorted bath towels that her family had deposited upon her, and claps a firm hand around Jake’s shoulder. Intimidating is an understatement. He’s also hyper aware of that button incident, and itches to fiddle with the plastic discs on his plaid shirt.

“Your car’s very _very_ sweet,” Is what he says, unexpectedly. 

Jake can’t help but grin and enthusiastically nod, animated in his movement which goes through his whole body. “Right? The seats and everything, all in mint condition,” He proudly says, even though it’s kind of a huge lie and one look inside would tell him as much.

“Maybe next time you come around we can take it for a drive, huh?” Papa Santiago says, giving him a small wink and Jake almost squeaks because that sounds like approval right there, and his heart is soaring, and Amy’s dad is also really cool and smells kind of like what he always thought a rich, influential mob boss might smell like.

“You got it, sir,” He does actually squeak before her dad’s laughing and ushering him out. 

\- - -

“They like you,” She observes when he’s bouncing a little too much in his seat and belting out the chorus line to _Shoot To Thrill_. He spares a look over at her, and she looks proud. He feels pretty proud of himself, too.

“I think,” He acts nonchalantly, before gritting out the next verse and Amy laughs that tinkering laugh of hers, that sounds kind of like windchimes and he’s over the moon.

“They do,” She concludes, reaching over to tangle their fingers together when they stop at a red light. “Which they should because, I don’t settle for less than the best,”

“Are you saying I’m the _best_? I’m going to need that in pen and paper, signed, _pronto_ ,”

“Second, best,” She corrects, while he squeezes lightly at her hand.

He spares her one last fleeting glance before offering a small shrug of his shoulders. “I’d be willing to compromise for a joint position,” 

There’s a beat of silence before softly, she says, “Sounds like a plan, Peralta,” 


	8. warmth^2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Jake & amy reflecting on their first (real) date?? idk!!

His pillows smell like something… fresh. Like spring flowers, or freshly chopped mint leaves– it’s comforting, and the smell takes a total of two seconds to identify as the shampoo Amy uses to get her hair looking so sleek and crisp. A moment’s worth of rustling against the mattress later, and his hand detects the rumple in the bedspread, the lingering warmth from where her body was.

 _Huh_ , he thinks. _So that wasn’t all just a dream._

The moment of reprise is up though when another moment passes and the momentary disbelief that he, Jake Peralta (re: sex god supreme, fantastic detective, charming casanova) had in fact done the dirty with Amy Santiago (re: pencil pusher prude, second best detective, ~~some sort of miracle~~ ) in his own sheets, is overcome with something that doesn’t sit quite as well in the pit of his stomach. _That she isn’t there anymore._

He scrambles, or more rather, he takes an ungraceful turn that winds up in him barely stumbling to his feet than sliding cooly out of the bed and nearly trips headfirst into the floor over his discarded boxers. And then–

“Hey! You’re awake!” She calls from the kitchen, peeking a head out to beam at him with her hair in messy tumbles down her shoulders, past the shirt that he now realizes had been absent from the littering of clothing. Yeah, that’s a sight he’s going to have no problem getting used to.

“Seems so,” He replies, hobbling into his boxers whilst Amy still has enough modesty about her to look away and blush a little. “Uh- also? What is that in my frying pan? Because neither of us are eating anything you’ve decided to make,”

As affronted as she tries to look, she still can’t bite back the grin as she says, “It was between this or the expired cereal so, we’re taking the odds,”

The pancakes are the type you can shake up in those bottles and he makes more than a few comments on how absolutely _unhealthy_ that is before lathering her stack in icing sugar and more maple syrup. To her credit, she still eats half of it, even if she swipes the rest of it off onto her plate. But despite the comfort that comes from sitting around half naked with Martha Stewart playing on the television and her legs haphazardly strewn across his lap, there’s still… a _weight_ between them.

“So,” He finally says after he’s shovelled enough food into his mouth to semi-muffle his voice. “About last night–”

“Right! Last night when we–”

“Completely unveiled how much prowess you really do possess and how offended, I am, that you never let me in on this earlier Santiago,”

It’s one way to diffuse the tension, he’s hoping, because the tense posture Amy had slowly relaxes before she’s rolling her eyes and smacking him in the shoulder. He takes that as a win.

“To be fair, would you rather I told you, or _showed_ you?” She finally manages over her shoulder, and her eyes glint in a particular way that makes his heart thump beyond what should be healthy. He falters; She laughs. At some point he shakes his head, cracks a toothy grin and looks away because if he looks a little too long, he might do something like kiss all that icing sugar off her lips. 

“…So, it’s.. okay with you? That we broke the rule?” He dares to ask a little further, eyes still trained on a far corner of his apartment. There’s a chip in the wall paint, and a hairline crack trailing further down. Amy shifts a little in his lap, the small clink of his plate against the table indicative of her movement.

“Yeah,” She breathes, and when he sneaks a look over at her, she almost looks relieved. Like she just heaved a huge weight off her chest, and he takes small pride in knowing he’s not alone in that feeling. “While generally I might disagree, in this case, you might be right about you know. Rules being made to be broken. And honestly? Last night was… beyond just you know. The sex. It was great- and that’s something I think I only could’ve felt around you. So no, I don’t regret breaking the rule,” Her hand finds his and gives it a soft squeeze and Jake forgets how to breathe. 

And _then_ , he decides to kiss the icing sugar off her lips.


	9. climbin' out the backdoor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> for the prompt thing. Teddy realizes Amy likes Jake? :)

The process of falling in love was always a troubling concept to him - because as far as Teddy was concerned, there was just existing and then the next day, there it was. You were in love. There’s no slow budding process, there’s just a process of realization.

Teddy draws the short straw in watching his girlfriend experience that process.

Jake and Amy were always tight, he knew this before he started dating her and he definitely got familiar with the concept after. Coined as a pair, and at each other’s throats in the most affectionate of ways. He’s not threatened, because, well, Amy’s allowed to have friends, especially if said friend is her _partner_. It’s fair game. 

(Except, maybe, he is just a little threatened. Just a wee bit.)

But there comes a point where he realizes that the way Amy drones on about him, from the way he managed to destroy yet another piece of furniture at the precinct to the way he accidentally caught a perp she was after for a solid twenty minutes before the guy just crashed right into - quote on quote - ‘his stupidly open, inviting, candy coated palms’, is less about a contempt that she portrays but instead something deeper than that. 

He realizes it when she comes home one night later than usual and there’s a crease between her brows that she only ever gets before she disappears into a bathroom for what is way beyond normal, and says, “Jake got fired,” 

And then, disappears into the bathroom for what is way, _way_ beyond normal.

Along with the fact that he comes to learn about Jake going undercover, he also comes to learn the fact that he confessed feelings that Teddy always suspected but never had any solid proof to back up. Now that he does, he’s not entirely sure how he feels about it. A traitorous voice at the back of his head says, _threatened, threatened, threatened_ because there’s no reason Amy should look so guilty for telling him this.

When he comes across her leaving a voicemail to his (old) number, because undoubtedly he’s on a burner phone by now, is when it dawns on him: For all her complaining, what’s underneath it extends beyond platonic care. And the worst part of it is, that it’s dawned on him before she’s even come to realize it herself.

“I just wanted to say... I’m. I’m sorry I couldn’t say more-- I had this whole dumb checklist on things you should take note of so you don’t get yourself killed and then you went ahead and dropped a major truth bomb on me and now.. you’re. Out there. Without my checklist, and probably think I hate you or something,” She takes a deep breath before her voice grows quiet. “Which I don’t think I ever could Jake. I guess-- Just. Come back alive. We all miss you. ...Me included. Don’t do a Peralta and land yourself in a dangerous spot, okay?”

As an afterthought, she chews her lip and then says. “Actually I rescind that. Doing a Peralta is the best thing you could do to get out of there alive, and if you came back any un-Peralta’d, I’d have to ask for a new partner, because really, the only one I want is you know. A Peralta. A _Jake_ , Peralta, specifically,”

She doesn’t hear the click of the bathroom door when he turns away, because he’s well aware that she’s too distracted by someone else.


	10. christianing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Jake x Amy co-hosting a party (possibly in their new apartment?) :))

The ‘party’ as Amy has taken to calling it, is more of a celebration for the fact that Jake has upgraded from cast to cane. The idea however, is entirely Jake’s.

“C’mon Ames, it’ll be like… like Christianing the new apartment,” He says, exaggeratedly jazz-handsing in some sweeping gesture of the place. 

“Christening,” She says with a raised brow. _Honestly_. “And I mean, shouldn’t we be celebrating something more.. festive? Or worth the celebration? What if this just jinxes it? Oh God, every celebration I ever hold is a catastrophe, what if Terry knocks the bookshelf onto your _other_ leg and crushes it and then you end up in a _wheelchair,_ ”

His eyebrows knit together and his mouth pulls apart to say something before he slowly closes it again. Alright the breakdown was a bit of a slippery slope, in hindsight, and the train of logic was clearly derailed and that realization isn’t making her feel much better. But then he says, “Amy. That only ever happened when it was just you. You’ve got me now to balance it out. …Also, those celebrations were only ever disasters because you let yourself into the kitchen,”

Somehow, though, this leads to Amy having to google every ‘casual party refreshment recipe’ that the internet can supply while Jake hobbles around in his cane and eventually bats the laptop away from her. He reminds her twice over, that it’s really just so Charles and Gina can check out his new pad and the rest of the squad has an idea of where they’re living while having an opportunity to check in on Jake, but she needs the definition.

“It was just a suggestion,” He mumbles into the coarse fabric of her sweater one morning, his pain meds taking effect faster than anticipated. Though, with all the work he’s been insisting on putting himself through, working past reasonable hours within even the perimeters of the night shift, it’s no wonder that he’s struggling to stay awake. “I don’t want to be stressing you out. Me being back was, supposed to like, de-stress you. Not the total opposite,”

She runs her hands lightly through his curls. They’re recently cut, with his frosted tips shaved off and thankfully disposed of, but still thicker than they were when he left. That’s where her thought process stops, because the ache she still gets when she thinks about his indefinite departure is inconsequential when he’s heavy against her side, warm against her middle.

“Trust me,” She mumbles, skirting her thumb down his cheek, tenderly swiping down to his chin. Jake hums comfortably, and she feels a familiar warmth tide over her. “I’d take getting stressed over your presence over your absence any day,”

He still accommodates by massaging the tenseness out of her shoulders when they get home earlier than anticipated, or bringing hot pierogies into the precinct for her when she forgets to eat. He pulls her into the shower only to thread soap through her hair and let the warm water run down her spine where he works the sponge, and kisses the crown of her head with a small, “I already made your, _party refreshments_ , as lame as that sounds, for tomorrow, don’t attempt to blow up the stove. It’s _new_ ,”

She offers him a mirthful laugh, which he eats up with his lips pressed against her own.

“Welcome! To the Christening!” Jake sweeps his cane grandly around the space and nearly breaks a vase.

Amy whispers, “Good job,”

Jake whispers back, “I know,” But still squeezes her hand with enthusiasm.

Within ten seconds of entering the space, Gina has already busted open a Champagne bottle that thankfully, doesn’t smash anything, and Rosa has four boxes of Pizza in tow. “Congrats on being a temporary cripple,” She nods at Jake, before going to dump the boxes on the dining table.

“Honestly preferred the cast, gave you more of an edge – though it IS regrettable that you left the pink one behind. Really would’ve brought out your eyes, boo,” Gina accompanies with a shrug.

Charles brings more food that mostly goes into the fridge at the end of the night because no one wants to risk any potential upchucking, and Terry whips out a gigantic teddy bear.

“I’m not a child sarge,” Jake says without making any eye contact, doing one of his one-eighty head swings. Terry turns it around and unzips it and Jake gasps a little, wordlessly takes the bear, and excitedly turns to hobble off towards the bedroom.

The Captain, brings his own copy of Die Hard. Jake gapes in awe for a whole minute.

It’s not so much a party as it is the squad gathered around the television, eating pizza and watching Die Hard, but despite how much it veered away from the initial plan, Amy can’t help but think it went even better than expected, with Jake mouthing to half the lines and Gina half asleep on her shoulder. The pierogies Jake has on a plate are half eaten (mostly by her) and once they hit the third movie everyone looks way too groggy to keep up, despite Jake’s protests amidsts his frequent yawns.

“We should do this more often,” She says once everything is cleared into neat floral printed tupperware in the kitchen, and the apartment is empty aside from the both of them, curled into each other on their bed.

“You mean, collectively watch Die Hard? I’ve only been suggesting it since like, forever ago,” He yawns into her collarbone, burying his nose further against her.

“No - I mean, just. Hang out with the squad. Without the stress of festivity. I think the pressure of having to conform to the expectations of a holiday sort of took the crazy out of my planning,” She mumbles tiredly, dragging her thumb down his spine.

“Nah,” He mumbles back. “I think I was the one who took the crazy out of your planning. But hey, at least I’ll be here for every other holiday you’ll ever have to make sure you actually enjoy yourself,” He adds quietly, right before he dozes off, without a glimmer of realization as to what he’d just said.

Amy reflects that hopefully, he does stick around for every other holiday for the rest of her life.


End file.
